


The Broken Road

by WhiteWolfLegend



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:02:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteWolfLegend/pseuds/WhiteWolfLegend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock had known each other since they were young and were married before John left for war. Only they hadn't spoken for four years due to an argument. When John is shot, what will Sherlock do to prove his love? To prove he didn't mean what he said all those years ago?</p><p>This is a WIP so don't forget to subscribe</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Mycroft Holmes was worried; it had been four horrible years where his brother has tried to destroy himself in drugs and serious situations all because of his love. No matter how much he says it, feelings were important; especially if you married the man you loved.

It had been four years ago where his brothers husband had packed his things and left, never uttering a word to his husband. It had indeed been Sherlock’s fault; Mycroft was there and witnessed the destruction of a true and powerful awe inspiring love.

 _I HATE YOU! I need them! You did this, you ignoring me!_ Sherlock had screamed.

 _I didn’t do this! Why so you need them!? AM I NOT ENOUGH?_ His love replied and Mycroft knew the words that were about to be spewed untruthfully from his little brother’s mouth.

_YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH FOR ME!_

That was the last straw and when Sherlock came down from his high he his love was gone and the world crumbled around him.

It was later when Sherlock begged him to find his husband did he realise it was futile to bring the man back. He went to war, he went to save people – put his talent as a doctor to good use - and refused to come home until Sherlock was clean and had realised what he had done. Till then, he was going to figure out if their marriage would be salvable even if he loved Sherlock with his whole heart.

It was the first time since he was young that he saw his brother cry and fall into his arms for comfort. It was the first time in a long time that he needed Mycroft for emotional support and willingly asked for it.

Something a kin to dread has begun to form in the pit of his stomach and it had caused Mycroft to call General Thomson to speak to his brother in law.

“What can I do for you Mister Holmes?”  The squad general of John Watson’s unit asked through the grainy screen.

“I need to speak to Captain John Watson, it is of importance.” He replies, his voice formal. The man on the screen winced, before slouching.

“I am afraid that can’t be possible sir.” He replied solemnly and the tone made Mycroft sit up straighter.

“Why not? Has something happened?” Mycroft demanded furious, fear crushing him.

The man blanched before sighing. “The unit he was with had been ambushed coming back to base and Captain Watson was wounded sir. He had been shot in the shoulder and the MD had stated as we rushed him to be air vac’d out that he would be lucky to live. He was shot close to the heart sir.” The more the man spoke the more Mycroft paled. This was not good, not good at all.

“Sir, are you alright? Is it too intrusive to ask why you needed John?” The formality was dropped.

“John Watson was my brother-in-law. Thank you, I will see to find him myself.” Mycroft snarled before slamming the lid of laptop down. His hands pulling out the phone from his jacket pocket before freezing. No he had to tell his brother himself, find out where his brother in law is first and then help them though the aftermath.

“Anthea. Find out where Captain John Watson is and then where my brother is. DO IT NOW!” He yelled the last order. His assistant nodded, her fingers flying across the little buttons on her phone quickly.

“Captain John Watson is in one of the army hospitals in London. I have requested that he be moved to Saint Bartholomew’s immediately. Your brother is on the other side of London at a crime scene with DI Lestrade. The car is waiting for us at the front sir.” She informed him, Anthea knew who John Watson was and not many else did.

Mycroft slouched slightly and praised her for organising everything before moving quickly to get in the car. His duties be dammed. “My brother isn’t going to take this well. He will blame himself I’m sure of it.”

As soon as the car door was closed and the location been supplied, it screeched off towards its destination.

-

Sherlock was slouched over a body, his eyes taking in the scene and every bit of evidence that he could find. But there was no usual rush he got, no joy that he could deduce the killer and how it happened.

“You okay Sherlock, you look glum.” Lestrade asks as he watches the consulting detective with a worried look. He had known Sherlock Holmes for four years and had helped him get off the drugs that he thought he needed. Looking at the date he sighed, it was the day which Mycroft had described as the crumbling downfall of his brother.

“Huh, oh yes. This was a crime of passion, his wife maybe or a mistress. I would say his mistress because there are two scents of perfume on him, one stronger than the other that indicates his wife; while the other is slightly fainter but fresh. I can smell it on his hands and the cuff of his arm…” Sherlock trailed off as he looked out the window. The familiar black car of his brother pulling up in front of the house they were in.

Dread filled his system as he ran down the stairs, Lestrade following asking what was wrong only to halt as he saw Sherlock fling himself towards his brother.

“What is it? Why are you looking so… oh no. NO! TELL ME MYCROFT TELL ME HE IS OKAY?” Sherlock screamed, shocking everyone in the vicinity that knew Sherlock. It was rare that the man showed any form of emotion beyond irritation.

“Sherlock… He’s alive, he was shot.” Mycroft informed his little brother calmly, he could see the people staring at them.

“Sherlock is everything alright?” Lestrade asks worriedly as he moved to stand by the two brothers.

“No… How did it happen? Tell me how it happened!” Sherlock demands his hand now fidgeting with the chain he always wore.

“His convoy was ambushed on the way back to the base; I didn’t want to tell you that he switched from the medic tent to the field two years ago.” Mycroft sighs, waiting for the anger he was about to receive.

“Where is he now?” Sherlock whispers, he knew that his husband being in the war was mainly his fault. Well John wanted to be a soldier and craved action, but he would have thought John would have kept the promise of staying safe.

“I will take you to him now; by the time we get there John will be at Saint Bartholomew’s.” Mycroft informed, sighing silently as Sherlock darted and dived into the car.

“Who is John, Mycroft?” Lestrade asks softly, almost silently so he wouldn’t alert his co-workers of the serious conversation.  

Mycroft paused and looked at Greg quickly and shaking his head, “It’s up to them to tell you.” With that he was in the car and it driving away just as quick as it came. Leaving everyone stunned. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2
> 
> A/N: holy hell, thanks for the comments and kudos! I do hope you are enjoying this so far.

 

**3 rd POV**

Sherlock had bolted out of the door before the car even stopped and raced into the waiting rooms and to the nurses’ station.

“Can I help you?” the nurse asks, her eyes leering at Sherlock with interest. Only to stop when she received a vicious scowl in return.

“I’m looking for Captain/Doctor John Hamish Watson.” Sherlock rushed out with venom, he didn’t need her flirtatious leers when his husband was critically injured and close to death.

“And who are you?” The woman asks, her voice dropping an octave.

Mycroft strode up to the woman with a matching scowl. He could see that the woman was leering and being flirtatious instead of doing her job. It was also obvious by the worried looks from other doctors and visitors at how desperate Sherlock was.

“Ms… Williams. This man before you has asked you a question relating his husband. I suggest you find the information quick or you will be found without a job and living on the streets.” Though his tone was calm, you couldn’t deny the sharp undertone of truth. The nurse blanched before her eyes diverted to the screen and her fingers tapping quickly.

“Doctor Watson-Holmes is in room 223.” She squeaked out, her eyes looking back up at the tall threatening man while the one she was checking out was already down the hall.

Sherlock’s heart was beating quickly, the only sounds he could hear was the clicking of his shoes and the blood rushing in his ears, as well as the words the nurse had uttered. _Doctor Watson-Holmes._ He was using their married name, had he forgiven him?

“John…” Sherlock whimpered as he saw his battered husband lying in the bed. A bandage had taken up the majority of his torso and was tinted a slight pink. “Oh god.” He sobbed before moving to be by his husband’s side.

It had been four years since he laid eyes on his love, four years with only grainy photos from camera’s and newspapers that his brother had given him.

“I love you.” Sherlock whispered brokenly, “I’m sorry for everything I said. You’re everything to me. You are the only one I need, the gravity that holds me to this earth; my light in the darkness. I was foolish to say you meant nothing, that my drug habit was your fault and more important than you. Nothing is more important than you.” It took all his restraint to hold back the sobs from breaking free and instead managed to nuzzle into his husbands hand.

“He was shot from behind, the bullet cause quite a lot of damage. The doctor who did the surgery said that he was lucky to still be alive; nothing short of a miracle. He told me that the doctor must have been fighting for someone or something.” Mycroft whispers from the other side of the bed, his eyes scanning his brother-in-laws chest and battered body.

The war had changed the boy – now man – he knew. Seeing John through pictures as he checked up on him was nothing compared to the man before him. Gone was the scrawny pale body and in its place was a toned defined man that has seen and has been thrown around too much.

“You check on him… for me.” Sherlock mutters as he sees the look in his brothers’ eyes.

“Yes.” Mycroft replies honestly as he takes the other spare seat. “We spoke often, he asked me to look after you; to make sure that his husband was better when he returned. He was coming home in a month.” Mycroft finishes warily. John coming home was to be a surprise, he wanted to spend their fifth anniversary together; he begged Mycroft to let him come home and surprise his brother.

Sherlock smirked as he brushed his hand softly down his husband’s cheek. “Is that why you have been constantly watching me, constantly checking up on me. The same with Lestrade doing all those ‘‘drug busts’’ to make sure I was clean and had none in my possession? Of course it makes sense now, John asked you to look after me and I _know_ you and I can never refuse him. It’s his gift.” Sherlock smiled softly down at his husband.

“That it is. I remember when you brought him home for the first time. Father was furious that you brought home a _commoner.”_ Mycroft spat the word with distaste. The Holmes family maybe rich and prestigious but they never looked down on those who worked hard for the money they had.

“Mummy told him to be quite and told us to go play in the garden. She was happy I had made a friend.” Sherlock chuckles as the image of her mother’s face towards his father that day. “I remember the first day I met him… it was one of my fondest memories.”

-

_Sherlock was ten and he had wandered off from his holiday home to play along the beach. He hated the holiday home and being stuck with his father and the servants that seemed to treat him like a freak. All because he could tell them with one look what they were like._

_“Are you okay?” A soft concerned voice asks, causing Sherlock to look up and wipe his face. He didn’t know that he was crying. His bleary eyes looked over the small boy before him and wished his brain wouldn’t point out the obvious things._

_“My name is John, John Watson. I was playing down there and saw you. Are you okay? What is your name? Do you want to play?” the young boy asks anxiously and happily as he points to the half made sandcastle._

_“I snuck away from the servants, they were being mean. My name is Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock sniffles out before looking down where John had pointed. “What are you building?”_

_John blinked before frowning. The boy before him was not like him; he knew that and didn’t care. The boy needed a friend and John always wanted to have a new friend. “I’m building a sandcastle, come play with me!” he chirped as he yanked the boy up before him._

_“What do I do? I’ve never built one before.” Sherlock whispers shyly, afraid of being bullied because of it._

_John gasped before plonking down next to the boy and handing him the other bucket and spade. “You put sand in like this with the spade and when the bucket is full you smooth it down with your hand like this!” John showed the boy, waiting as Sherlock did what he was shown. “When that is done, you quickly flip the bucket over and softly lift it and there! You have a little sandcastle!”_

_Sherlock frowned and did as John had showed him, tearing as his little sandcastle crumbled._

_“Hey, it’s okay. You just need to try again, it takes practise; it took me forever to get my sandcastles good!” John rushed out as he saw the boy began to get upset once more._

_By the time the sun was high in the sky Sherlock was laughing and building sandcastles with John. He was truly for the first time enjoying himself._

_“So why did you run away? Why were people being mean to you?” John asks as he places the shells around one of the castle towers._

_“You’ll think I’m a freak.” Sherlock whispers, his lip quivering._

_“What! You’re my new best friend! Why would I call you a freak?” John snaps out horrified. He had spent the day getting to know Sherlock Holmes and had decided that the boy would be his new best friend; he had never had a best friend before._

_“I know things with a look… they don’t like it… I’m smart and they call me a freak.” Sherlock reluctantly states as he draws in the sand, he didn’t want to look up and see the judgment in John’s eyes._

_“Ohh… Like what, show me!” John asks giddy, he wanted to see what Sherlock could do._

_Sherlock hesitated but looked up at the boy who treated him like a normal person would. His eyes were soft; they didn’t hold the hate or the other emotions he could see in the servants and nanny’s eyes._

_With a deep sigh he began, “You had honey on toast this morning, but you prefer jam – strawberry. There’s a little stain on your jumper collar where it spilled. You have a sister, I can tell because you have some glitter there in your hair. Blue is your favourite colour, your shoes and watch tell me. You’re here because your parents are arguing and you are here for a holiday so you don’t know where to go but here.” Sherlock finished in a soft voice, the fear swelling in his chest at Johns silence._

_John was in awe; his new best friend was super smart. “OH! That’s so cool, are you a super hero? You could so be a super hero!” John cries out excitedly causing Sherlock to look up with wide eyes._

_“Really? You don’t think I’m a freak?” he whispers the end in hope._

_“NO, that’s so cool! We’re going to be friends forever, I can tell s‘lock! You will be the hero and I your sidekick!” John exclaims, standing while pulling a superhero pose causing Sherlock to laugh._

Sherlock jolts out of the memory, his eyes welling with tears. Besides Mummy and Mycroft, John had been the only one who never called him a freak; in Johns eyes Sherlock was a hero.

“You silly boy, you’ll never be a sidekick. You’re my hero and you always were.” Sherlock whispers brokenly; he hoped his love would wake soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be continuing so don't forget to Subscribe so you wont miss out on this!!! Also if you could find any artwork of their first meeting I may love you forever :P
> 
> Let me know what you think


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Mycroft stared at his brother with a tender expression, he couldn’t even comprehend the feeling that Sherlock would be going through as of right now.

“Sherlock, I know it isn’t the best of times but you need to tell DI Lestrade that you won’t be available until further notice and you need to show him why.” He calmly told his little brother, waiting for the explosion of annoyance that’s about to come. Though he was mildly surprised when Sherlock, for once, agreed with him.

Sherlock clenched his hands and placed a kiss over his husbands’ brow before leaving the room, his phone already in his hands and typing away.

_You need to come to St Barts immediately – room 223, just you. SH_

As soon as the message was sent he was back in the room glued to John’s side. _Why hadn’t he woken up yet?_

“He has been in a semi coma for a week, Sherlock. You need to be patient and thank all who can hear you that kept John alive, he was assumed not to pull through.” Mycroft tells him stiffly. He hated to say the words and hated to hear such things, not even the best doctors could 100 precent approve or state that the doctor would pull through.

“I know. I hope he can forgive me Mycroft. I still love him very much, I never stopped.” Sherlock whispers, brushing his hand along his husbands jaw; he was demanding his brain to quiet. Though no matter how much he chanted he couldn’t help but notice the differences in his husband.

Before John had an air of innocence around him; his face smooth and clear. Unlike now, his face was darker; he had an air about him that screams ‘I’ve seen too much’. His body though in shape didn’t have the defined muscles it had now. There were scars that littered over his husbands hands, arms and torso, instead of being disgusted by them he had found them more appealing; more thankful. His hands had lost the smoothness they had in exchange for the soldiered medic doctors hands that he had now.

“Come in.” Mycroft’s voice knocked Sherlock from his thoughts, his brain registering the presence of Lestrade entering.

“You wanted to se…” Lestrade trails off in slight shock.

“Yes, I wanted to tell you that I will be otherwise preoccupied. I need to get the unit redone and everything moved in and clean; I also need to be here with John. I will not be available to take any cases as from now.” Sherlock blurts out frustrated.

“Okay, who is he if you don’t mind me asking. I have never seen you so worried.” Lestrade asks, causing Sherlock and Mycroft both to stand.

“H-he m’ Husband.” A raspy voice behind them caused them all to jump. Sherlock whirled around and relief flooded through him as he saw the bleary eyes of his husband.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt? You promise-e-d m-m-me John. You promised me y-y-y-ou wouldn’t get hurt.” Sherlock finished in sobs.

“Sh-Sh. I-m ‘kay. W-water?” John rasps out, his throat itchy. He was indeed in pain but he didn’t want to tell his husband that. He could see instantly when he woke up that Sherlock blamed himself because he wouldn’t be here hurt if they never had that fight.

Lestrade watched with wide eyes and raised brows as Sherlock fretted over the man while Mycroft held a cup of water and a straw to the man’s lips. He was even more surprised that Sherlock was married, he had known him for nearly four years now and not once was the man – John – mentioned or ever seen a wedding band.

“Do not lie to me John, you are in pain. I will get the nurse.” Sherlock states in a rush, only to stop when John grabbed him.

“Wait. Need to see you. Come here.” John rasped out, pulling Sherlock weakly to him. Sherlock hesitated for a second before allowing his husband to pull him towards him. As soon as their lips touched, Sherlock melted; still very aware to not press down on his loves shoulder.

“I’m so sorry Love,” Sherlock breathes, tears welling in his eyes as guilt plagued him.

“Shh love, I forgive you. I have been waiting four years to kiss you again. I have missed you so much. I love you.” John breathes happily before wincing.

“I love you too John.” Sherlock whispers his reply before leaning back and grasping his husbands hand in his once more.

“Who’s this?” John asks as he finally tears his eyes away from his husband to Lestrade.

“I’m Greg Lestrade. Sherlock works with me on cases.” Lestrade answers instantly, causing the man before him to smile.

“Thank you.” John says honestly as the name registers in his mind. He was the one who had helped Sherlock get off the drugs and stay on the straight and narrow.

Lestrade frowns confused while Mycroft looks away from his brothers scowl. “Why are you thanking me?”

“You helped s’lock. I have heard many good things about you.” John chuckles before gasping in pain, his right arm going up to touch the shoulder as pain wracked him.

“I will get the nurse, don’t move.” Sherlock mutters, casting a glare towards Lestrade before exiting the room swiftly.

Mycroft shook his head. “My brother is still so oblivious around you John, the button for the nurse is right next to you.” He chuckles causing John to laugh.

“Nice to see you in person brother, hope s’lock hasn’t been giving you too much of trouble.” John states holding back the laugh as he smiled up at the eldest Holmes brother.

“It’s good to see you too but I had hoped it would be when I was picking you up from the airport.” Mycroft exclaims while giving John a rather brotherly scowl.

“Bleeding hell Mycroft. I just woke up, get off my back. I couldn’t let the kid die, but it didn’t matter anyway…” John lost his fight as the memories began.

_He could smell the blood and sand around him as the boy beneath him was gurgling and coughing up blood. John’s hands were sticky as they held together the wound in the kid’s stomach with a cloth but the blood still seeped through._

_“Don’t want to d-d-die!” The boy cried, the blood splattering Johns face as it bubbled up. Private Luke’s hands pawed at Johns shirt as he wailed some more._

_“You’ll be alright, I promise!” John yelled over the gunfire as the men around him dropped and defended. His free hand moving quickly passing out cloths and shouting orders for the other soldiers to help keep their friends alive. It seemed the world went silent and still for a second before the familiar crack of a gun sounded and searing pain exploded from his chest._

Mycroft watched in horror as John’s eyes grew wide and vacant. Fear and horror marring his features as his heart monitor began to beep erratically with his heart.

“MOVE BACK!” a doctor screamed as he rushed into the room, followed by Sherlock and two nurses. They quickly did as they were told as they watched on in horror.

“What happened!?” Sherlock demands angrily and worriedly, mixing between watching the doctors and glaring at the two he left in the room.

“He’s having a flash back. He mentioned the boy he was trying to save and then this.” Lestrade answered quickly, shooting Mycroft a look. When the doctors finally managed to sedate John, Sherlock was back by his husbands’ side, his eyes pained as they scanned over his husband in worry. He knew Mycroft had started the conversation that triggered the flashback, but his words can wait till later; Sherlock had other more important things to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well what do you think? Also John may have said that Sherlock was forgiven but there will be trust issues, he isn't forgiven fully yet. 
> 
> E

**Author's Note:**

> Well this has been stuck in my head for a while. I want to read a story where John and Sherlock are already married and no one truly knew about it!


End file.
